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And Speaking of the Cold Civil War...


For sure, weren’t they like vipers in the breasts of all those schlimazels who came home from the war and promptly went about their duties to be fruitful and multiply the suburbs? And the thanks they got was the poisonous asps who lay in their cribs, played in their leafy yards, broke down the remaining social barriers that had previously kept their riff-raff folks out of the Ivy League schools and turned on their own kith and kin with a ferocity that hasn’t been seen since Orestes whacked Clytemnestra and her boyfriend, although they obviously had it coming.

Dedicated as we are to striking, destroying, poisoning and destabilizing, we naturally flocked to a party with a long criminal history such as the “progressive” Democrats had, as we shall see, and their admirably “flexible” and “nuanced” approach to such arcane notions as law and truth and morality and standards of right and wrong… well, you get the idea. As they ladled on the moral superiority even as they violated every law and moral tenet in the Enemy’s book, well, who wouldn’t fall in love? It was like a permanent “get out of jail free” card, a form of atheist indulgence-buying, but instead of sinning no more, we went out sinned our tushes off.

A party, a movement, that promised us one thing above all – that it would never be “judgmental” – was just the thing some of us were looking for after those eighteen dreadful years with Mom and Dad. In its warm, if slightly clammy, embrace, we could indulge our every childish whim and fantasy, from our earliest erotic impulses to our inner four-year-old’s appetite for destruction. All of those so-called “rules” went by the board as we realized that, with the defeat of our parents’ generation, there was now nothing and no one to stand in the way of our complete hedonistic orgy of self-fulfillment, each vice now a virtue, each temptation an act of saving grace in the afterlife that we were sure would never come. Platoons, nay, brigades of shrinks and “social scientists” (novelists manqué without any talent, otherwise they would be real scientists) arose to counsel us not to suppress our deepest id, but to let it have free reign in the real world lest it damage us in the imaginary world in which they habitually dwelled.

Up was suddenly Down. Black was suddenly White. In was suddenly Out. How wonderful it all was. We never thought of the consequences, because consequences are for later and we are for the here and now. It’s no accident that one of our standard rejoinders when you lot object to one or another of our social experiments that we’ve just implemented, usually by judicial fiat, is: “well, the sky didn’t fall, did it?’ This is such an easy softball to swat out of the park one would have thought you would have long since figured it out, but no…

Only one thing stood, and continues to stand, in our way: you.

And by you I mean principally the other half of the Baby Boomer cohort, the ones who didn’t, like Satan, rebel. Some of them, a few, were like the angel Abdiel, who flirted with joining the insurgents but quickly repented and returned to the Enemy camp. But most of them – kissing cousins to those murderous National Guardsmen at Kent State – were deaf to our siren song, and set about living their lives in much the same stultifying ways their fathers and grandmothers had. They got up in the morning and went to work, dealing with reality as if it was, you know, reality, instead of the elaborate artificial academic construct we had fashioned. Unlike us, the constant kvetches, they never complained. They worked for ten cents on our dollar, their backs worth less than the penny for our thoughts, and still the fools were under the impression they were living the American Dream. Try as we might and we did to convince them otherwise, they believed in this country, believed in American exceptionalism, believed that their children would have a better life, believed – even when, like Abdiel, they slipped and fell – in the power of redemption. And even though we laughed at them, they persisted, which is one virtue we certainly know how to respect.

So the Cold Civil War continues, unto the generations, which would be mine. Because unless you finish us, we are most certainly going to finish you.

Read the whole thing here. Or have it read to you by John Allen Nelson. Your choice.